Nightmare 2 Elements
by Sorcerer Swordsman
Summary: Nightmare, still fighting crime, encounters a group of kids with actual powers that come from a drug. And he must confront the drug-lord... Finished! Warning: do not read if you have not read 'The Nightmare Saga'. It won't make since if you haven't.
1. Introduction of Fire

I hope this one will be as enjoyable as the first for those of you that read it. Enjoy it everyone!

            Nightmare hung over the telephone line like a blanket. He was an excellent balancer, so crouching on a thick telephone line was no problem for him. He was looking for crime, in any form. It had been nearly a month since the death of his first-ever foes, Grey and Alvosta, and everything had been quiet since then. No mad scientists, no crazy monster-men, no super-rich businessmen. After all, he did not consider himself a superhero. They were for comic books. He was simply a vigilante. He didn't try to deny it. He took the law into his own hands. And as long as no one really cared, that was fine with him. But if the law started chasing him, Nightmare was through. Being a vigilante didn't mean he didn't respect law and order.

            "Oh look," he muttered, staring down below. He could see right under him a gang approaching a rival gang. The Fire and the Ice, if he recalled the names. Typical. Fire didn't like ice, and the Fire didn't like the Ice. Just a normal gang fight. "Maybe I should get involved before someone gets hurt.

            Dropping from the line with ease, he landed on his feet between the two gangs. "Now boys," he began in a mocking sort of tone. "It's ten o'clock on a Saturday night, and here you are, about to fight and ruin my evening. You should be home. I think _Friends_ is on right now. Hurry, you don't want to miss it!"

            Fire's leader swung a fast punch a Nighmare's head, which was promptly caught and used to flip the kid into his gang's mass of punks. Ice started to slip away, and Fire was all that remained. There were about ten kids angry and armed with switchblades. Sharp switchblades. The leader backed into an alley, leaving his buddies to finish the job.

            One of them jumped at Nightmare with his knife, but a kick in the stomach dropped him and his weapon. Two ganged up on him at once, and both had quite a headache after their heads greeted each other. The remaining five all went for Nightmare angrily. One cut his arm slightly in the struggle, but it wasn't much of a fight. They all ended up in a heap on the concrete by the time that Nightmare was finished fighting, and nine switchblades were mysteriously found in a trash can the next morning. But the fight wasn't over.

            As he began to walk off, Nightmare heard a voice coming from nearby. "Don't go just yet, hero. You forgot _me_."

            Nightmare turned around, expecting to see Fire's leader with a knife or gun. Wrong. He shot from his hands, Nightmare could swear, intense fire and heat, aimed right at him. He jumped to the side in time to see a melted metal trash can.

            "You're dead!" exclaimed the leader. "I'm not the only kid like this, and you're gonna be freakin' sorry you messed with me. See ya, hero!"

            He shot another tornado of flame at Nightmare, who jumped into the street in time to avoid it. Running until he could run no more, Nightmare jumped into a building's window, still able to hear the laugh of the kid. The words haunted him the most.

            "I'm not the only one like this…"


	2. It Won't Be Long Now

            "Okay, this is not good." Those were the words of Nightmare as he arrived home to his apartment. All his adult life, he had dealt with punks and robbers, gang members like Fire and Ice, but never, in his wildest dreams (with one obvious exception) faced a super-powered kid. Fire out of his hands!!! Sure, Grey had been super strong, but all you've got to do for that is lift a lot of weights. That wasn't horribly unusual. But fire out of skin? This was not good at all.

            He turned on his Windows '98 and waited while the Internet dialed up. When it came up, he went to Google and put in a search for Fire. It came up with way to many searches, most involving science or camping, so he narrowed it down to 'Fire- want superpowers?' It came up with about 100 hits, the majority involving comic book characters or bogus science that said you can get superpowers by accessing your inner soul. But on the fourth hit page, he found something that shocked him. "Want Superpowers of the elements?" 'Our new drug can give you the powers of fire, ice, wind, wate…'

            He eagerly accessed the page, and as he scrolled down to read, a smile grew on his face. "Bingo."

            The page talked about a new drug similar to cocaine that was highly addictive and somehow gave the user superpowers. It didn't tell how, and at the moment, John/Nightmare wasn't interested. He offer cost 1,000 bucks for a pound of the stuff, so the person selling the stuff was making a lot of money on it.

            John accessed his Hotmail account he used when he didn't want to be known by his name and sent an E-mail to the webmaster asking where he could meet him to get some of the drug.

            He took a glance to see if there was any more information about it on the website, but discovered that that was all, and shut down, wondering when his E-mail would be answered.

            In a far-off building in San Francisco, in a dark warehouse full of boxes of drugs, a man sat stroking his cat's soft head. He had his computer on, and he noticed an E-mail pop up. Reading it, he smiled. "It won't be long now…"        


	3. A Day at the Office

                John put on his suit and tie and prepared for a long day at work. Since the deaths of Alvosta and Grey, he had been different. Before, he had been so… withdrawn. For example, he had never wanted to work in court, preferring the duties of the office. Now, if there was a case to be argued and debated, he was all for it, heads on, no holds barred. And it scared him. Withdrawal had always been what kept him under control. He had enough physical power to kill someone, and it frightened him. Being flamboyant could lead to recklessness, and recklessness to carelessness, and carelessness to… death.

            He pushed these thoughts aside as Freddy walked in, face red with perspiration running down his chubby face. "John, there's a hot new case you've gotta get! This punk kid broke this old lady's window last night around ten, and she's saying he shot fire out his hands to do it! It's crazy!"

            Trying not to appear excited, John said, "So? She could be lying. What makes this so special?"

            Freddy stared John hard in the face. "Her windows weren't just broken… _they were melted_."

            John pretended to consider it, then said, "Okay, I'll look into it. It sounds like a pretty easy case. The old lady's delusional, the kid lit a little gas, and the window melted. Vandalizing of property; no problem. I'll be back by 5:00.

            He grabbed his coat and rushed out the door, his excitement now visible. Not only was he going to get some answers out of this kid, the punk wasn't even going to know that it was the same guy that had faced his entire gang down the previous night! He hopped in his Mustang (he was, after all, a lawyer) and sped down to the courthouse with thoughts of a job well done in his head.

            There was a slight problem, he quickly discovered. The kid didn't want to talk.

            "Hi, son. What's your name?"

            Silence.

            "How's it going?"

            Silence.

            "Nice day, huh?"

            Silence.

            A new strategy would need to be improvised. Intimidation.

            "Okay kid, you and I both know that you can pay a nice heavy fine for this, so why don't you let me talk to you so that I'll have something to win the case with. Actually, I'm a pretty famous lawyer around town. To tell you the truth, I'll bet I could get you in jail for a couple of weeks just for this one broken window."

            "I'd burn it down."

            At least he's talking. "How would you do that, you little punk?"

            "All I'd need is my hands."

            "They don't give out matches to prisoners in jail."

            "All I'd need is my hands."

            John took a dangerous risk. "Yeah, right. Prove it."

            The kid smiled a small little evil smile and took a paper off the desk John sat at. His eyes went white for a moment, and the paper lit on fire. He tossed it on the floor and stomped the flame out.

            "You really did melt that window didn't you?" asked John.

            "Yep. I was going after…" he stopped suddenly, realizing that it would only get him into more trouble to tell the events of the past night.

            "After whom?"

            "Nobody. It was just an accident. That's all. I was goofin' off and did the same thing I just did to that paper, only… different."

            John got ready to ask the big question, staring with his cold, icy eyes into the kid's. "Who gave you the drug, little man?"

            The kid stared back, then his eyes went wide. "You- you're him! The guy in the black suit!"

            He bolted out of the room like a lightning bolt, a look of panic and terror on his face.

            "Wait!" shouted John cautiously to the young man.

            It was too late. As he rushed out the building, he had scarce enough time to see the kid jump in the path of a speeding car.

            "Crap," Nightmare muttered. 


	4. Time for Some Pizza

            "Okay, let me get this straight, John. You were just talking to the kid and all of a sudden, after you asked a question, he ran out of the office and killed himself. Right?"

            John nodded to his law partner.

            "What'd you ask him, John?"

            He thought fast. The wrong answer would give away a lot more than he was willing to give. "I just asked him if he had any criminal record. All of a sudden, his face gets terrified and he runs into the intersection before I can stop him. It was crazy, Freddy!"

            Freddy nodded his head. "Okay; we've lost ourselves a case. Back to work I guess. The kid was an orphan anyway, so there's no one to sue you. Besides, the police already cleared you of murdering him."  
            John agreed, "Guess it is time to get back to work. I'll go get a bite to eat, but I'll be back soon."  
            "Okay, get me something too. BLT if they've got it."  
            "I was going for pizza."

            "Oh. We'll just share then."

            John grabbed his coat and walked out the door. He had far more to do than get a pizza. Last night, his E-mail had been answered, telling him to meet the dealer at Preston and Main in a small little alley by a dumpster.

            "I've got to hand it to them," he murmured. "I don't many dealers clever- or stupid- enough to give drugs in broad daylight."

            He caught a cab and headed there. He could see the dealer as he got out of the cab, wearing a black leather trench coat and sunglasses.

            "This guy's seen The Matrix one too many times," he thought. Taking a couple of steps forward, he whispered, "Do you have the stuff?"

            "The man said in a low voice, "Of course. Here are the drugs. Now give me the money."      

            Nightmare smiled. "I don't think so." A quick kick to the groin sent the man into unconsciousness. He examined the man's clothing until he found a wallet. He pulled out the driver's license and ID.

            He was really Joe Cradock, a 29-year old Anglo. That was all that he could tell from the two papers. He put the papers in his pocket and took the drugs as well, needing to examine everything.

            He began to walk away when he was hit with a force of a hundred bricks forward. Turning around, he cast off his outer clothing and put on his mask. Cradock had hit him with a surge of water. Nightmare checked to see if any bones were broken, and was lucky in that respect.

            "So, the dealer is a druggie too, huh?" he said.

            "Yep, and I'm pretty high right now, hero!" Cradock said, throwing forth another surge of water. It hit Nightmare hard, flying him across the street and into a brick wall.

            "Ungh," he muttered, and barely rolled to the side in time to avoid a lethal burst of water. "And I thought fire was bad!"

            Cradock forced water out of his hands, toppling the cars in the street between them. The intersection was clear for a fight now.

            Nightmare rushed forward fists flying. He ducked a powerful beam of water and landed a solid blow on Cradock's jaw. He hit him again in the stomach, and then sent his legs flying up.

            Cradock sent a beam of water towards Nightmare, who ducked again and landed a nice kick to the cheek of his foe. Cradock went to the ground, growing weaker now. He had enough energy left for one surge to Nightmare. The black-clad hero was sent flying into an upside-down car, and Cradock was totally drained of energy. He fainted on the spot.

            Nightmare got up, put Cradock in an empty car and locked the doors, leaving him for the police. He walked away dazed, with one thing on his mind.

            "Now about that pizza…"        


	5. Betrayal

                That night, Nightmare went through with the next stage of his plan. It was about 1:00am, and he was tired. "I should _so_ be asleep right now," he thought, rubbing his eyes to get rid of the sleep. Unfortunately, there was no time for sleep tonight. Rather, he was on the rooftop of the NYPD's headquarters, preparing to break in. Suddenly, he heard a sound from below on the ground.

            "See ya Charlie," one said.

            "Yeah, you too. Don't forget to lock up."

            "Perfect timing," Nightmare thought with a faint smile. He fell from his perch feet first onto the guard's back, not hitting him hard enough for a serious injury, but enough to make him unconscious. Nightmare took the key and walked in, locking the door behind him. He picked a random officer's desk and pulled up a chair by the computer.

            As soon as he touched the mouse, the screensaver ended, and a screen popped up requiring a login number and password. "I knew I should have learned how to be a hacker," he muttered.

            He rummaged through the officer's desk, looking for any card or something that might have the numbers on it. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a pink index card. Pulling it out of the desk, he typed in its numbers. For the login: .pny53737; for the password: tpl0z2. The computer began loading up.

            "Bingo."

            Once the desktop came up, he clicked on the "Criminal Records' icon. It took a few seconds, but after a short wait, a Word file came up with the criminal record of everyone in New York. Success.

            Nightmare moved the tiny cursor down until it came to the name 'Cradock, Joe.' He smiled when he read the most recent charge: "Unarmed assault against and unarmed man. Victim currently unknown. Trial TBA. So, his friends the police had gotten his present after all. "That was fast."

            The rest of the files included assault, theft, but mostly drug dealing. He had dealt in cocaine, marijuana, and heroine. Up until this point, he had never actually taken drugs, just dealt in them.

            He hit the computer in frustration. This had gotten him nowhere! He already knew that Cradock was a drug dealer and not all-around great guy. This whole scheme, it seemed, had been for nothing. However, he glanced down and saw a piece of information that made his blood run cold: 'Normally associated with Freddy Dock."

            Freddy!?! That was impossible! His partner and best friend couldn't hurt a fly! But then again… when he had asked John what he'd asked that punk before he killed himself, had that been fear of his plan being exposed? Had he been making sure that the punk said nothing? As much as it hurt, he had to find out the truth.

            He scrolled down to the name of Dock, Freddy. Tears nearly came to his eyes. 'Accused of 1st degree murder, let out after twenty years in prison.' He shut down the computer and left the building.

            He had found his lead all right. He only wished he hadn't.


	6. Suicidal Chase

                John was nervous when he went to work the next day. He had to get some information about Freddy's past, and he had to get it soon. Who knew how many more drugs could be shipped out the slower he was? So, practically trembling at the thought that his best friend was a murderer, he entered the law office, pretending to act casual.

                "Hey, Freddy, how's it going?"

                Freddy looked up from his desk. "Oh, just fine, John. Pull up a chair; there's lots of paperwork to be done."

                John did so, and about five minutes later asked, "So, Freddy, have you ever heard of Joe Cradock? Somebody I know mentioned that you and he used to be buddies."

                Freddy stared at his paperwork as he answered, "Never heard of him. The guy who told you must have been lying."

                "Not likely," thought John, remembering his real source. He waited a few more minutes, then said, "Freddy, I've never asked before, but as long as we're law partners, I should probably know. Have you ever committed a crime?"

                Freddy's face looked insulted at the question immediately, but his frown went upside-down. "OK, bud, you caught me. When I was twelve, I got a five-finger discount on a basketball I really wanted."

                He's changing the subject, thought John. "But that's all? Nothing serious?"

                Freddy's eyes seemed to avoid John's. "Nope, nothing but one shoplifting spree. Why do you want to know?"

                "Ya know, just wondering if you were going to skip town with all my money when we get rich," chuckled John hollowly. Freddy laughed too, but he still refused to look John in the eye. There would have to be a new tactic to get the truth from his friend. Or was that former friend?

                That night, Nightmare went on his evening patrol, just as usual. He had already beat up two hoods, and was about to call it a night. Suddenly, he heard a footstep from a roof, probably a few feet away. He ducked instinctively, and heard a whizzing sound above his ear, followed by a loud "Shit!"

                He glanced up and saw a dripping dart stuck to the wall. All right. This was too much. He spun around and saw the firer on a rooftop. With an angry frown on his face, he raced after him. The man was wearing a black suit and mask like Nightmare's, and was quite a good runner, unfortunately. Nightmare climbed up the building's fire escape route and onto the roof, just in time to see the villain jump to the next rooftop.

                "Stop!" he shouted.

                "In a pig's eye!"

                Nightmare glared and raced behind. The villain had to get tired sometime, and when he did, Nightmare would have him. Suddenly, the head of the black-clad foe turned around as he ran, and a knife came towards Nightmare's heart.

                John leaped to the side just in time, but the villain had his head start again. He got up and resumed the chase. So his foe had knives eh? He'd faced worse before. Namely, fire, bullets, and super-strength.

                Another knife came hurling, but this one missed entirely. Nightmare jumped to the next roof, finally gaining on his elusive quarry. Suddenly, the unexpected happened. The knife-thrower jumped to the side, off the roofs entirely.

                "That's suicide!" thought Nightmare. Staring down, he could not help but feel admiration for his foe. He had landed on not the street, but a taxi! As much like a movie as it seemed, Suicide (as Nightmare now thought of his name) had jumped from a three-story building onto a car and lived to tell about it! Nightmare could see Suicide crawl inside the car and take off, probably having killed the driver.

                "Only one choice now," thought Nightmare. His foe headed backwards, he waited till it was in the middle of a U-turn and did the same as his foe. He leapt from his perch on the roof onto the taxi, right in the dent that his enemy had created.

                Suicide stuck his head out the window at fired a bullet at Nightmare, narrowly missing his head. "Guns too!?!?" thought Nightmare. Suddenly, he panicked. He had started to lose his grip on the car's roof. He was sliding. So, he made a daring attempt.

                He stuck his hand in the car's inside and unexpectedly grabbed Suicide's gun. Then, before his foe could do anything, he took the gun and blasted the engine until the gun had run out of bullets.

                The car went skidding into a small shop on the west side of the street. Nightmare, dazed by the wreck, saw Suicide crawl stealthily into the shop. He followed, unknown to his foe. It was an abandoned antique shop, still filled with all its old cabinets and furniture. Nightmare crawled the opposite direction of Suicide, hoping to keep from being seen. He found a hiding space inside a cabinet, opening the doors quietly.

                He waited in almost fear, as he listened to the soft crawl of Suicide. Suddenly, before him, he could see the villain. He was right in front of him now. It was now or never. Leaping out form the cabinet, he jumped onto the black-clad figure like a man possessed. Suicide struggled hard, but was not strong enough. Nightmare knocked his head against the wall hard, and sent his opponent into unconsciousness. 

                Breathing hard from the long chase, he laid Suicide on the floor. "Now, let's see who you really are, Suicide." He had enough time to see the poisoned dart enter his shoulder from the shop window before he fell into unconsciousness.


	7. Interrogation

                Nightmare awoke in a dark room with one dim light hanging from the ceiling. It was a small room, and it appeared that he was the only one there. He was strapped to a chair with steel wires, and it appeared that the chair was bolted to the cement floor. Classic interrogation room, he thought.

                Suddenly, the door opened for a moment and Suicide walked in. "Ah, you're awake. Good."

                "Let me guess," said Nightmare. "This is the part where you laugh maniacally, pull off my mask, and then put me over a huge pit of hot lava. Am I right?"

                "No."

                "Rats."

                "Besides, I already know your secret identity, _John_."

                A million thoughts raced through Nightmare's head. This was definitely not good.

                "Now John, we really need to talk. There are a lot of things I need to ask you before I kill you. First of all, how did you get as far as you did?"

                Nightmare glowed with pride. "First of all, you were a bit clumsy. I found out about the drug when a punk attacked me. With fire. That's a pretty good tip-off right there. Next, I found your website."

                "Good!" Suicide interrupted. "I was hoping you visited it. That was essential. Now, continue."

                "All right. So, I sent you an E-mail saying that I wanted some of the drug. You sent out a dealer, I dealt with him, and took his papers. His name was Joe Cradock. So, I went to the police station, hacked into the computer, and found his criminal record. That was when I… found out about Freddy. How could he help you!?!"

                Suicide smiled ingeniously. "He didn't you fool. Do you think that you're the only person who knows how to hack? I put in Dock's name in that file, just to throw you off. Plus, it set you up for the fall you were supposed to take form my dart."

                If he could have, Nightmare would have stood up and punched him in the mouth. "Y-you mean you _framed him_?!?"

                "Of course. And reason is wonderful: so that you would go snooping around his house that night! So that I could shoot you with my poisoned dart! Isn't that rich!?!" he laughed.

                "You sick, twisted…" Nightmare started.

                "Now, now, no name-calling! So, that's the first order of business; now, onto the next. You see, this is a wonderful plan that's been set up.  The plan wouldn't be complete without all this. Plus, acting more evil than I am is a lot of fun. Makes me feel like the Joker!"

                "Just get on with the plan, Mr. Nicholson."

                "Ha ha. But you're right. Now it's my job to ask you: what would you like to call me? I'd like a name for the newspapers when they see the murder scene. If Jack the Ripper got so much publicity, why not me?"

                "How's 'shit' for you?"

                "Now, now, what have I said about name-calling. Really, I want a good name."

                Nightmare sighed. He was the one with Nightmare hostage after all. "Suicide is the name I've been calling you in my head."

                Suicide laughed. "Ooh, I like that! Excellent! You're pretty creative for a lawyer, John!"

                Nightmare winced. Oh yeah. Suicide knew his real name. "I'm glad. You can't imagine the pleasure it gives me to name serial killers and assassins," he said dryly.

                "Now, now, enough playtime. Down to business. There's something I have been ordered to ask you by my master. I need to know all about your past. Why you became Nightmare, how you trained yourself to get so athletic, and how you got so smart. I need to know your parents names, any siblings, past lovers, everything! To put it simply, I want your biography, and I want it now."

                Nightmare spit in Suicide's face. The face contorted in fury, but calmed itself quickly. "That was stupid, Nightmare. I'm going to get the truth out of you somehow, it's just a matter of how much pain you go through."

                Nightmare thought about it long and hard.  "Okay, Suicide. You find out all about me on one condition. You keep talking about 'the plan' like you didn't make it yourself, and you mentioned a master a minute ago. Who's the drug dealer, Suicide?"

                Suicide's face split into a grin, smiling as though it was exactly what he had wanted to hear. "The drug dealer Nightmare? An old friend of mine named _Joseph Alvosta."_

To be continued………………….      


	8. Alvosta's Revenge

                "Alvosta?!?!?!?!" screamed Nightmare in total shock. "Alvosta's dead! I saw Grey shoot him, and I saw them both fall out the building onto the concrete. He's dead, you maniac!"

                "Temper, temper!" smirked Suicide. "Of course Alvosta's dead! You didn't let me finish. He's buried all right, but he's been in charge of this entire drug plan ever since he first got rich. Let me fill you in before you tell me about your past. I do love watching your face contort so.

                "I was Alvosta's pilot and only friend till the day he died. He had always been eager to start his business in crime, but knew that in order to start, he would have to go legit and get some money. So, one chemicals company and a couple billion dollars later, I became pilot of his personal Lear and we became good friends.

                "Then one day, he burst into my office (yes, he even gave his pilot one) and locked the door hastily. He was so excited that he looked like he was about to have a heart attack. He had invented some ground-breaking new chemicals, he said. These highly-addictive drugs were so powerful that each one gave the user the powers of either fire, water, or high winds. I didn't understand all of the chemical equations, but I knew one thing: this could make him big bucks.

                "But Alvosta was smarter than me, and he already had a plan. Rather than sell them now, he would wait until he was dead and practically give them away to any that wanted them. That way, it would never be traced to him. The details of the plan, such as framing your partner, came after his first encounter with you. Those were all his idea. I'd say he did a pretty nice job, wouldn't you, Nightmare?"

                "Not good enough. I can still escape, and if I beat you, who will be around to produce and give away the drugs? Alvosta's super-powered populace idea will be down the drain in weeks."

                Suicide smiled and put his head very close to Nightmare's. "That's a really big 'what if?' though, don't you think?"

                Nightmare said nothing.

                Suicide paused for a moment to let the shock sink in, then asked the question that Nightmare had tried all his life to block out. "Why did you become Nightmare in the first place?"

                "Maybe I just felt like dressing up every night and playing superhero. Maybe I wanted recognition."

                "Maybe you're lying."

                "Maybe."

                "I won't ask you again with your brains still inside your head. Why did you become Nightmare?"

                Nightmare paused. I have nothing to lose, he thought. Slowly and painfully, he began.

                I was twelve years old when it happened. I remember it so clearly. Ten o'clock at night, November the 26th, 1980. We had just gotten home from my grandmother's after eating a delicious Thanksgiving dinner. I was ready to go to bed, as were my parents. I remember it so clearly.

                Suddenly, a man jumped out with a gun. "Okay mister," he said. "Give me any money you've got, or I'm gonna shoot the brat over there. My father began handing over the money. I was scared stiff, but at that moment, I thought of Superman or Batman and what they would do in this situation. I aimed a punch at the hood. He was surprised by it, but not hurt, and in his surprise he… tear emerges shot my father in the chest. He shot him in cold blood, because I had surprised him. And it was all my fault. Were it not for me trying to be a hero, my dad would still be alive now. But he's not. Because of me.

                Then, he pushed me to the ground and grabbed my faint mother, running with her in his arms. I was told that they found her later in an alley, raped and murdered. That guy wouldn't have dared to do that if my father had been there. But he wasn't. Two people died because I tried to be a hero.

                I grew up with my grandmother, sunk in my grief and withdrawn in my anguish and pain. I became the most athletic in school, and was number 4 in high school GPA. I did it all to make up for my parent's death. But nothing was enough.

                Another night, my grandmother and I were walking home. I was 17. A hood came to my grandmother and began to rob her. This time I did something. I punched him and punched him and punched him until he was nearly dead. I put him in critical condition with my bare hands. My grandmother died anyway. I was so outraged, that I decided to end it, once and for all. I knew that I would never be able to find the hoods who killed my entire family, but I would hunt down what they symbolized. I would become their nightmare.

                Nightmare stared down in silence, tears cold and moist on his cheeks, flowing freely. "So, that's my story. Kill me now and let me rest in peace. My story is told, my debt is paid. I did all I could, now my duty is done. Kill me, Suicide."

                "You'd like that wouldn't you, Nightmare? But guess what? That's not good enough for you. Do you know who I am?" Suicide pulled off his mask, and Nightmare felt rage beyond all else within his breast. The man that had killed his parents!

                "I'll kill you!!!" he shouted. Then, with strength unequaled even to the dead Grey, he let loose all his rage and broke through the wires that held him. A man could be stopped. A monster could stopped. Nightmare could not.

                The wires fell to the floor, mangled beyond belief. Suicide stared in horror. "What- what are you?"

                Nightmare's fatal punch to his neck answered the question. Words were not needed, but were said, in tribute to his fallen family. "Who am I? I'm Nightmare."

                And with that, he left Suicide, Alvosta, and his past in the room, for the police and paramedics to find and clean up. Nightmare was going home, and hell wouldn't stop him.

Review!

P.S. I like this climax better than the old.     


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